


He's Everything You Want (he's everything you need)

by LadySlytherin



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, BAMF Stiles, M/M, Manipulative Peter, Mpreg, POV Peter Hale, Peter Ships It, Peter is a Little Shit, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Sterek Bingo 2017, but vague, sbbamfstiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 12:30:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11059026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySlytherin/pseuds/LadySlytherin
Summary: If you asked Peter Hale, he'd tell you that there wasn't much that surprised him.Stiles Stilinski? He was on the list of things that had.





	He's Everything You Want (he's everything you need)

**Author's Note:**

> The second of my fics for the tumblr Sterek Bingo Month Event.
> 
> Theme used:
> 
>  **BAMF Stiles** \- because we all know he is, right? And I really wanted to play with Stiles' spark.
> 
> This was a fic I'd had planned for a while and the event gave me the push to finish it. Originally, it wasn't from Peter's POV and it was going to be _much_ longer. Then I opted to write a huge amount of words for this event in a three month span of time and the length of this one was altered accordingly. Peter tells the story well, anyway, and I really adore how it turned out.
> 
> Come bother me on tumblr, throw prompts at my head, and check out what I'm working on next! ((I'm everything-a-wolf-could-want over there.)) As always, comments are my favorite thing ever, and I always try to reply, so pretty please leave me some love.
> 
> ~ Sly

It all started with curiosity.

 

Peter admitted to a certain level of asshattery, because that was who he was and had always been. The truth was, it wasn’t so much that he was sadistic or malicious - as others had, on occasion, accused - but simply that he was _curious._ And that curiosity often outweighed smaller, pettier things. Like the safety and wellbeing of people he didn’t actually care about. Or like the emotional stability of his family. Which wasn’t to say he didn’t feel a pang of guilt every now and then, when something didn’t go the way he’d anticipated while orchestrating it. But it was typically smothered rather quickly under the satisfaction of having assuaged his curiosity.

 

Temporarily, anyway.

 

Peter knew Derek blamed him for Paige’s death, but the truth was, he’d had no idea the dear girl was going to _die_ from the bite. Honestly, he hadn’t been sure _what_ was going to happen, because he’d never known a druidic spark who’d been bitten before. But Peter had always had a bit of a gift for sniffing out magic in someone’s blood, even if they had no idea it was there, and he’d wondered about it. He had wondered if perhaps Derek was drawn to the girl because his wolf recognized her as a potential druid; someone invaluable to a wolf who would one day be an alpha. And Peter had been certain that, while Laura would one day take on Talia’s power and responsibility, Derek would one day claim alphadom in his own right. True alphas were rare, but Peter had seen his nephew’s potential and been pleased with it. Derek had always been his favorite.

 

He’d been sorry not to reach Derek and Paige fast enough to be the one to end the girl’s suffering, knowing Derek would never attain true alpha status after having taken an innocent life. It didn’t matter _why_ he’d done it; his eyes burned blue and would therefore never turn red. Not unless he took the power from someone else. He’d actually been okay with coming back from the dead as a beta, and having Derek as the Hale Alpha. True, part of him would always crave that power - and he’d take it for himself in a heartbeat, if he ever got the chance to kill an alpha who _wasn’t_ his nephew - but Derek had it in him to be an amazing alpha. He just...needed to get past all of his hang-ups and insecurities.

 

He’d learned from his mistake, with Paige. He’d bitten Scott in the woods, not Stiles, though Stiles had smelled better and it had been a near-thing with his instincts at war with each other. Later, he’d offered the bite to Stiles, but only because he’d wondered what Stiles would say. He’d never had any real intention of destroying another spark. Especially not one who burned as brightly as Stiles. Compared to him, Paige’s spark had been nothing; a candle’s flame against the sun. Stiles had _power_ inside him, and a lot of it. It made Peter wonder just what he was capable of.

 

The first time he tested Stiles, it was mostly unplanned. _Mostly,_ because Peter had been thinking about ways to see just how strong Stiles’ spark was for some time, but he hadn’t come up with anything concrete. Then Stiles was talking to Allison, about how cool he thought it was whenever any of the emissaries they’d met - Deaton and his sister, for instance, though they’d come across others on occasion - threw a handful of mountain ash into the air and wound up inside a perfect protective circle of the stuff. Peter’s mouth had been off and running, almost before he’d really considered it.

 

“You can do that, you know.” When Stiles stared at him in disbelief, Peter shrugged as though it were of no importance to him what Stiles chose to do. “You’re a spark. If you threw mountain ash with the _intent_ to make a circle, it would happen for you. Truthfully, it’s not a bad idea for you to practice it. It might even save your life one day, if you started carrying it around.”

 

It only took Stiles two days to get his hands on a small amount of the stuff. Peter wasn’t positive, but he thought Stiles stole it, rather than asking Deaton. Peter didn’t blame him. The best part was, Stiles had apparently taken Peter’s words to heart and firmly believed he could do it. Because the very first time he tried, it succeeded perfectly. He also managed to use a hand-motion and some intense focus to gather the mountain ash back into the glass vial he’d strung up as a necklace. And though Peter didn’t show it, he was impressed. Stiles’ magic was strong, and it bent readily to Stiles’ will.

 

And still, the question of just _how_ strong plagued Peter’s mind. More testing was required.

 

Peter actually tested Stiles quite often. A little task here; a small mention there. And every proposed use for Stiles’ magic that Peter presented was eventually accomplished and, though it was obvious Peter was manipulating him, most of them helped Stiles’ powers grow and strengthen so no one really complained. Least of all Stiles, who seemed to thrive under the constant praise of the pack. Not to mention the praise and respect from Derek. And really, Peter was owed a damned _medal_ \- or at the very least, a _Thank You_ card - for his role in _that_ whole melodrama.

 

Because the more Derek considered Stiles an equal - someone powerful and capable and necessary to the continued well-being of their pack - the more Stiles’ confidence rose. And as Stiles’ confidence rose, he grew increasingly more daring and, before Derek quite knew what was happening, Stiles had kissed him for the first time and, well...after that, it was all sort of a whirlwind of chaos and need and _love._ Because Derek and Stiles loved each other and, as sickening as Peter found them to be at times, he was genuinely happy for his nephew. In truth, that was the second reason _it_ happened. Because he genuinely wanted Derek to be happy. And, for whatever reason, Stiles was the one who made that happen.

 

So the day he overheard Stiles lamenting to Lydia and Allison about his inability to leave hickeys or love bites or any sort of mark on Derek despite how often Derek left them on him, he simply couldn't help himself. “Of course you can leave marks on Derek. You simply have to _try_ to.”

 

“I do try!” Stiles’ voice was sharp and annoyed and he was glaring at Peter even as Allison and Lydia rolled their eyes. Peter goading Stiles had become as normal as anything in their lives ever got. “But his stupid werewolf healing factor kicks in and makes them fade almost immediately.”

  
“You’re his mate.” Peter retorted, rolling his eyes. “Mates can always mark each other. But it’s got to be done with _intent_ behind it. Like the bite an alpha uses to turn someone. Intent matters more than anything else. You ought to know that by now.”

 

And Stiles was skeptical, but willing to try just about anything to make sure the whole world knew Derek Hale was _off the market._ Because that was _his_ man. Stiles trusted Derek, of course; trusted Derek more than he could put into words. He just didn’t trust other people not to get a little too handsy when trying to convince Derek to take _them_ home for the evening. Stiles knew Derek would never take them up on those offers, but it still caused an ache in his heart to know they couldn't just _tell_ that his werewolf was taken. So, if he could give folks a heads-up from across the room...well, he was going to _try._

 

And when Stiles crashed at the Hale House that weekend - because, eighteen or not, the Sheriff didn’t approve of Stiles spending the night when he had school in the morning, unless it was life-or-death - the whole pack fell silent when Derek came down for breakfast covered in love-bites and hickeys and scratch marks. Stiles strutted in, preening, because Derek looked like he’d had one hell of a night and that was all thanks to him. Peter hid his smirk behind a coffee mug, more than a little impressed that Stiles had managed to circumvent Derek’s healing factor with his spark.

 

Derek simply shot Peter a cross look, though Peter noted his nephew hadn’t bothered putting on a shirt before coming downstairs, though he easily could have. He also knew Derek had never told Stiles what, exactly, Peter was doing by goading him the way he did. Peter wasn’t sure any of the others - smart as they sometimes were - knew enough about sparks and magic to understand the full extent of Peter’s manipulations. Derek, however, knew that Peter often chose something impossible to accomplish, then insisted Stiles could do it, just to see if the boy’s spark could step up to the task. So far, Stiles had never failed. And the teen remained unaware that this _wasn’t_ because _all_ sparks could do what he could, so Peter continued to push.

 

And really, he wasn’t hurting anyone. Least of all the pack, or Stiles. If anything, he was _helping,_ in his own way. So where was the harm?

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 _The Incident,_ as it came to be termed after the fact, was _not_ something Peter had planned. In truth, it wasn’t even a true experiment. Peter had mostly offered the idea up as comfort. No matter how powerful Stiles had proven to be, he’d never expected the spark to actually _do it._

 

It had started out innocently enough, with Stiles approaching Cora shortly after graduation and asking to speak to her privately. His scent was sour and anxious and the unhappiest it had been since before he’d started things with Derek. So Cora had agreed, without hesitation, and Peter had discreetly followed. Just in case whatever was wrong wasn’t something his niece could assist with. After all, it never hurt to have another mind working on a problem. So he followed the teens out of the house and into the Preserve. There was a chance, of course, that Cora was aware of his presence, but it was unlikely she’d tell Stiles so it didn’t matter much. Once they were out of earshot of the house, Stiles started talking.

 

“ Do you...do you think Derek regrets it? Choosing me, I mean, as his mate.” Stiles was fidgety and restless, in a way he hadn’t been in months; not since his magic had started helping him focus and settle into his skin better. “I mean, I can’t...I can’t give him kids. Like, we could do surrogacy or whatever, at some point, but they’ll never be  _ ours _ . I mean, biologically. Not  _ both  _ of ours, anyway. Which I don’t care about, but I just...I know how wolves can be, about pack expansion and passing on the wolf gene, especially when they’re born like you and Derek, and especially as an alpha, and...”

 

“Stiles.” Cora cut off his babbling as soon as she figured out where he was going with it; what his fear was. “Derek isn’t going to dump you just because a couple of born she-wolves showed up in town. They’re seeking a pack, and Derek’s happy to expand ours so we can hold the territory better, but he’s already chosen you. Wolves mate for life, and believe me when I say that Derek has, too. He can grow the pack through adoption of omegas, or by giving the bite to others. Erica and Boyd are planning to have kids one day, and so are Scott and Allison. So even if none of the rest of us ever do, it’ll be enough.”

 

Stiles bit his lip, then asked. “Okay, but what if it’s _not?_ Cora, I...I can’t...I can’t be the reason he’s unhappy. I can’t be the reason he doesn’t have everything he wants or deserves.”

 

For a moment, no one spoke. Peter could hear the rapid pace of Stiles’ heart; could smell the sweat dampening Stiles’ palms; could practically _see_ the way Stiles’ thoughts were racing as panic clawed at his insides. Finally, Cora asked. “What, exactly, do you think my brother deserves?”

 

“Everything.” Stiles admitted, the word falling out on a sigh. “Derek deserves everything he’s denied himself since Kate. He deserves happiness, and peace, and a place to call home. He deserves a family; a pack. He deserves to relax, and settle down, and to not drown in guilt all the time.”

 

Cora nodded slowly. “I think...I think Derek deserves whatever he chooses to have.” She gave Stiles a piercing look, sharp in a way Peter had only ever seen women manage. “Would you agree with that, Stiles? That Derek deserves whatever he sets his heart on? That when he decides something will make him happy, _that_ is the thing he should get to keep?”

 

Stiles nodded, and Cora smiled softly. “Well, you idiot, that’s _you._ You’re the thing Derek wants most. The thing he’s chosen to keep. So stop worrying that he’s going to change his mind, because you’re the first thing he’s let himself want - let himself _have_ \- since the fire. He’s not going to go back on that. If he wants kids one day, he’ll want them _with you,_ and you two will work that whole mess out together. Stop worrying so much, okay?” She leaned in and hugged him tightly - something she rarely did with anyone other than Derek - before whispering in his ear. “Derek’s not the only one who needs to let himself be happy, Stiles. You deserve it, too.”

 

She walked away after that, picking her way easily through the forest detritus, back to the Hale house. Stiles, for his part, leaned against a tree and looked morose. He looked like he was warring with himself, actually. And Peter, while not one for gentle moments or heart-to-hearts, _did_ have a soft spot for Stiles. Not to mention Derek, who was still his favorite. So he stepped out of the trees, deliberately letting a twig snap beneath his boot as he approached, to give Stiles a moment of warning. While he did enjoy sneaking up on Stiles - and the teen’s snarky comments when he did so - this wasn’t the moment for such theatrics. Stiles was hurting, in a very real way, and if something wasn’t done it would soon hurt Derek as well. Peter wasn’t risking Cora’s words not being enough. Not when it could mean Derek’s happiness, not to mention the stability of their pack.

 

Stiles never seemed to realize just how much he mattered; just how important his dynamic with Derek was to the overall balance of things.

 

“What do you want?” Stiles snapped, but it lacked the usual bite.

 

“I wanted to offer you a bit of comforting knowledge.” Peter said, and he meant that. “Now, I don’t want you taking this as gospel, because I’ve only heard about it in innuendo and rumor. I don’t know how much truth there is to any of it, really. I wouldn’t have mentioned it at all, except I think you need to hear it.” Some of that was true, actually, but Peter was one hundred percent positive that, of the half-dozen tales he’d heard, only one of them had even the slimmest chance of having been true. That was a paltry concern at best, in the face of what Stiles needed in that moment.

 

Slowly straightening away from the tree he’d slumped against, Stiles narrowed his tawny eyes at Peter. “What do I need to hear?”

 

Peter sighed, then spoke slowly as though he were reluctant. “I’ve heard stories. Not many, you see, but enough to make me wonder if...well. I wouldn’t have brought it up, in case it’s _not_ true, because I wouldn’t want to raise Derek’s hopes. But I trust you can hold your tongue, and that you’ll understand why I’m trusting _you_ to know about this possibility.”

 

Stiles was leaning forwards now, looking curious and inquisitive, and Peter let a soft smile grace his lips. It didn’t make Stiles flinch away as it once would have; he’d grown comfortable with Peter, safe in the knowledge that he was one of the few pack members the older wolf genuinely cared for. “Tell me.”

 

“Of course.” Peter smiled a little wider. “I have heard of male wolves - alphas, specifically - being able to impregnate their male mates, provided their mate happens to have magic in them, too. Typically this happens if their mate is a werewolf as well, but there was one story of it happening with the alpha’s emissary. Which, after all, you are, for all intents and purposes and regardless of the formalities we’ve neglected to follow.”

 

“Wh-what?”

 

“ It’s a way to ensure the wolf-gene carries on.” Peter explained, acting as though he hadn’t noticed the way Stiles’ heart was trying to pound past his ribs. “I was hesitant to mention it, as it only happens in rare cases, when the circumstances are just right. Typically, there are advanced warning signs that it’s a possibility. Namely, the alpha saying certain things to his mate during sex - about wanting to breed him, wanting to fuck him full of pups, that sort of thing - once the wolf side picks up on their mate’s potential. I have no idea, of course, if Derek has shown signs of this; if his wolf has noticed whether or not you’re capable of bearing young, but even if he hasn’t yet, you’re still young and your magic is still developing. It could happen eventually. And, given the concerns you expressed to Cora just a few minutes ago, it seemed wise to fill you in on the... _ possibility.” _

 

Stiles seemed stunned, but hopeful. “Derek...he has. S-said that...that sort of thing. Kind of a lot. I...I sort of figured it was just a wolf-thing.” Peter, of course, knew Derek had said that sort of thing because he’d accidentally stumbled across them during a romp in the woods; he’d left quickly, and Derek hadn’t even noticed his brief presence, but he’d seen and heard more than he’d ever wanted to in regards to his nephew’s sex life.

 

“To an extent, it is.” Peter agreed, which was the truth. _Mostly._ “ Most wolves, however, will not say such things to a mate of the same gender. Males will not speak of breeding their male mate, and females will not beg their female mate to breed them. This is because their instincts are what guide that sort of talk, and their instincts know their mate can’t bear their young, or give them young to bear, as the case may be. If Derek has said things like that to you, it _could_ be a sign...” Peter sighed and added. “I can’t say for sure, Stiles. These stories might be nothing more than tall tales. But, if the possibility exists...well, I thought you should know. That it might comfort you.”

 

And it seemed it had, because Stiles’ scent had gotten lighter with every word Peter spoke; sweeter and softer around the edges, too. It was obvious his mood was greatly improved. So Peter counted it as a win when Stiles thanked him quietly and walked away, a funny little smile on his lips. And Peter then pushed the conversation from his mind, feeling his duty as loving uncle had been done and all was well. It never occurred to him that Stiles might _actually_ manage to get pregnant. For one thing, it would require intent. And Stiles was eighteen, fresh out of high school and with the avid desire to get a degree in criminology and follow in his father’s footsteps as one of Beacon Hills’ finest. He wasn’t ready to settle down; to start a family. Besides that, the sheer amount of magic it would require to make such a thing happen...Peter was doubtful _any_ spark could manage it, even Stiles. In truth, he figured no one short of a full-blooded fae could muster the power it would take to make something as wild as a male pregnancy occur.

 

Peter really shouldn’t have underestimated Stiles.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It wasn’t surprising, given the circumstances, that Peter was the first one to notice. Stiles was home for Christmas from his sophomore year at college; at UC Irvine. He came home often, with Irvine being only a few hours away, and Derek went to see him on campus as often as he could as well. It helped that their pack was so stable, which meant it was safe enough to have Derek wander out of the territory now and then, for a day or two at a time. No one would dare encroach on Hale territory; not anymore. Derek was an alpha to fear; his pack, one to be reckoned with. A large part of that was due to the power of his mate; the teenage spark who had managed magic many emissaries with forty years experience couldn't replicate. Peter was proud of the part he’d played, and pleased to see Stiles and Derek still going strong, despite the strain of Stiles being away at school.

 

When Stiles exploded into the Hale house in a whirlwind of noise and chaos and energy, everyone rushed to scent him. Peter hung back, knowing he’d have a chance to do so when the rest of the pack had finished. Stiles was the last one home - he’d taken on a heavy course load and had needed to speak to one of his professors _after_ his final grade for the semester had posted regarding a summer program that he was considering taking - and the pack was a little extra-enthusiastic. That was what first got Peter’s attention. True, the other pack members had greeted each other with a certain level of excitement, but they all seemed over-eager to touch Stiles; to layer their scent on his and be close to him.

 

The next thing he noticed was the way Derek seemed to orbit Stiles. True, the two were very close and openly affectionate, but Derek had never been the type to _hover._ Nor would Stiles have tolerated him doing so, being as independent as he was. Which made the sudden clingy behavior both odd and highly noticeable, though Peter seemed to be the only one doing so. The others, it would seem, were preoccupied by Stiles. Or, more specifically, by Stiles’ _scent._

 

“You don’t really smell like _us,_ but you still smell like pack. That’s so weird!” Scott laughed, even as he swiped his hand along the back of Stiles’ neck and then through his hair, the gesture absentminded. “Did you get a new cologne that somehow smells like us? That would be crazy.”

 

“It’s not a cologne.” Cora murmured, leaning in and brushing cheeks with Stiles, inhaling deeply. “It’s definitely his scent, it’s just...changed. Which is odd, because most people’s scents don’t change unless they’ve layered over it somehow.”

 

Erica hummed her agreement. “Smells sweeter, almost. Like vanilla. Or chocolate chip cookies.”

 

Stiles laughed, his color high from having been out in the cold, even if just for the few minutes it had taken to grab his things from the jeep and haul them inside. “Well, if I’m going to smell like something, baked goods certainly isn’t the worst thing, right?”

 

“ It’s a good smell.” Derek agreed, arms winding around Stiles from behind. He pressed his nose behind Stiles’ ear, inhaling long and slow, then hummed happily. “You always smelled good, but this is just... _ perfect.” _

 

Curious, Peter drifted closer. He took in Stiles’ scent and tried to analyze the changes. This wasn’t the first time Stiles’ scent had changed. When he’d first started stretching his spark, his magic had grown by leaps and bounds, and his scent had altered along with it. He hadn’t smelled _different_ so much as like _more._ This change was, in a way, similar. Stiles smelled like _more._ Not more magic this time, though. No, he smelled like more of himself. Like he’d somehow added to himself; increased himself in some invisible manner.

 

Sucking in a stunned breath, Peter realized where he’d smelled that before.

 

“You...”

 

The word choked itself off, his throat getting tight, because it was _impossible._ Except that as the world spun dizzily around him, Stiles and Derek moved closer - Derek to catch him as he staggered, and Stiles to scan with his magic, looking for injury or illness - Peter could _hear it._ The steady _whumpwhumpwhumpwhumpwhump_ that was light and rapid and fluttery, like a hummingbird’s wings. Too fast to be anything but what it _couldn't_ be, and Peter knew it was true even before he took another deep inhale. And yes, the scent was unmistakable now that he’d thought about it; now that he’d _placed_ it.

 

Sinking onto the couch Derek had led him towards, Peter kept stunned blue eyes locked on Stiles. The young man his nephew had chosen was truly the most remarkable creature he’d ever met. “What?” Stiles demanded, shifting a little uncomfortably under Peter’s intense stare. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

 

“Because you’re pregnant.” Peter said, the words falling out without thought and certainly without filter; he was still too stunned for that. “I never really thought you’d manage it, you know. But your scent...and I can hear the heartbeat. You...you did it. You _actually_ did it.”

 

Stiles pressed one hand to his belly - flat, despite his love of sweets and milkshakes and curly fries - and stared at Peter uncertainly. “I...I am?” Peter nodded slowly - ignoring the way Derek had sat down hard on the floor, every inch of his being focused on Stiles’ belly - and Stiles let out a shaky laugh. “Wow. I...wow. I figured it’d take a few years, once I started trying, but it’s only been a few months, you know? For my magic to do what it had to, I mean. I mean, I’m just a spark, so...”

 

“You are not _just_ anything.” Peter retorted, more sure of that than he’d ever been of anything. “You are, without a doubt, the strongest spark in the history of magic. After this, I have no doubt there is not a bit of magic anywhere that you couldn't bend to your will with little more than a thought. Stop doubting yourself.”

 

“I can hear it...” Derek’s shocked whisper drew Stiles’ attention. The alpha was on his knees, and had shuffled closer to Stiles. As he spoke, he pressed his ear to Stiles’ belly, hands clinging to Stiles’ hips like a lifeline. “I can hear the heartbeat. It’s so _soft...”_

 

Peter could hear the worry in Derek’s words and hastened to reassure him. “I’d say Stiles is no more than eight weeks along, Derek. Possibly just six. The baby’s heartbeat is soft because it’s small, yet. New. It’s steady, and the right speed. It sounds just as it should.”

 

Derek let out a watery laugh, then pressed a kiss to Stiles’ flat stomach before nuzzling there for a minute. “I’m going to be a daddy...”

 

He sounded so reverent, and Stiles was beaming like he’d been given the moon, and Peter couldn't have stopped his reaction if he’d tried. Which he didn’t. Peter threw his head back and howled, long and loud and full of joy. It was only a moment later that Cora was echoing the sound; something she remembered from moments of celebration and happiness and light before the fire - moments like the finding of a mate, or the gift of new life. It was a sound that hadn’t been heard in the Hale territory in far too long. Alana and Erin - the two young, female omegas - now betas - that Derek had taken in around the time most of his pack graduated from BHHS - followed suit almost right away, clearly having done this with the pack they’d lost to hunters before winding up with Derek.

 

One by one, the other betas joined in, following the instinctive pull of the sound. Isaac first - always so in-tune with the pack as a whole, driven to belong in a way none of the others were. Erica and Boyd joined in together, even as Peter and the girls howled again, carrying the sound while the others learned it; learned the cadence and pitch that meant _good news_ and _happiness_ and _love._ Jackson joined in seconds before Scott, the two of them always lagging a little behind with pack-things but getting the hang of it soon enough.

 

They took breaths - not in tandem, but staggered, so the sound never died out - and howled again, together, all of them. And then, at last, Derek threw his head back, eyes flashing red as he let out the same sound. His howl was louder, stronger; in a perfect world, he as their alpha would have started this howl. But Peter knew Derek had trouble remembering the time before the fire; had trouble remembering anything before the pain of losing so much in one fell swoop. So it was fitting, then, that he was the one who’d started it in Derek’s stead. He, as the oldest living Hale and the one with the most memories of the time _before._ But when Derek’s voice joined theirs, it felt like something broken was finally mending itself. Like the moment when the healing factor kicked in, and broken bone and muscle and flesh began to knit back together.

 

And then, as Derek let out his second howl - the sound of wolves echoing through the house, and surely through the preserve as well, as loud as they were - Stiles proved just _why_ he was a worthy mate of Derek Hale, son of the great alpha, Talia. It was not, as so many assumed, because of his spark - however strong it was. It was not because he was a good person with just the right edge of darkness that let him make the hard choices that came with being an alpha’s mate. It was not even because he had seen Derek at his worst - at his most broken, when he was failing at everything and barely keeping it together - and had stuck by him. No, it was because Stiles understood the wolves in a way few humans could ever hope to. And he _loved them_ for what they were, especially Derek.

 

Surrounded by howling wolves, including the alpha he was mated to - carrying one inside himself, even - Stiles did the one thing most humans, even ones raised in werewolf packs, would never have dreamt of doing. He threw his head back and _howled._ The sound was different - made with vocal cords not intended for such a sound - but Stiles pushed it out as best he could, and Peter wondered for a moment if he’d practiced. Because the sound wasn’t half bad, considering. And it was _so right,_ the alpha’s mate howling along with the pack, even if he was human, that their own howling redoubled.

 

And moments later, following Stiles lead, Allison took a deep breath and howled as well. It wasn’t quite as impressive as Stiles’ was; the sound wasn’t quite as pure or true. But it was a howl that was filled with laughter and love and light, and it meant all the more coming from the throat of the daughter of a hunter; an Argent. That an Argent would celebrate a new werewolf life, and celebrate it _as pack,_ was just one more reason for the sound. A few seconds later, Lydia let out a wail unlike any she’d ever made. Not a scream of portent - of ill-omen - but a sound that was as much a song as it was a scream. It twined around the lupine howling - and the human voices echoing it - in a way that spoke of magic. Peter had never known a banshee could scream in joy; announcing good fortune instead of bad. But Lydia somehow managed it.

 

Later, Derek would pull Peter aside and tell him to, ‘ _Stop fucking with Stiles, please. I’m grateful for the baby, of course, and for the way you’ve helped him find his strength. But enough is enough. No more.’_ Peter agreed, because really, what more was there to test? Stiles had proven himself, beyond measure. Some time after that, Stiles would thank him for having planted the seed that had made the baby possible; thanked him, also, for every time he had pushed Stiles by challenging him. Peter was stunned to realize Stiles had _always_ known what he was doing, and had never said anything because it _worked._ And, in Stiles’ own words, ‘ _If it was helping me and helping the pack, why bother fighting about it? So thank you, for being just the right brand of asshole.’_

 

And, for the first time, Peter realized that the pack had not merely forgiven him for the crimes he’d committed while injured and feral. No, he was well and truly one of them. And maybe it wasn’t what he’d once wanted for himself - dreaming of being alpha of his own pack, ruling over a group of betas hand-chosen for what they could do for him - but it was _good,_ in a way he’d long since given up hope of having. Somehow, a band of teens - ranging from high school princess and genius, to social outcasts no one cared enough about to notice were hurting - had become the family Peter hadn’t realized he wanted. Hadn’t realized he _needed._

 

And yes, it was in large part due to himself - to the way he’d egged Stiles on, and his part in getting Stiles and Derek together, and certainly his unintentional role in the creation of Stiles and Derek’s unborn child - but he knew the bulk of the credit went to Stiles himself. To the spark who had helped make Derek into the alpha he was; who had helped bind their pack together; who had protected them with everything he had despite his own fragility. It belonged to a mere human; one who ran with wolves and never backed down and loved like it was the only thing he’d ever been meant to do. It belonged to the mate of Peter’s nephew and alpha, who carried the first of the next generation of Hales inside him. It belonged to Stiles, son of the Sheriff, who’d known loss at a younger age than anyone should have to and who’d come out the other side of it with a fierce determination to never lose anyone else if he could help it. It belonged, without a doubt, to the _best_ person he had ever known.

 

Peter was _so_ glad he hadn’t bitten him.

 

 _ **~**_ _ **The**_ _**End**_ _**~**_

 


End file.
